We are branches of one vine,
The African Vine,
We are rooted in fertile soil,
The African soil.
We are descendants of the Bantu,
Products of the spirit of Ubuntu,
With heads held high we march on,
Never to be tossed and swept into oblivion.
We may not have the entirety of our history enshrined on paper,
We may have been scattered, into billows of smoldering vapor,
But we know our identity,
We are as distinct as a Cheetah whose tear marks display peculiarity.
We urgently need to rekindle the ancient mode of story delivery,
Perhaps, it’s time to proactively preserve our traditions and history,
It’s time to tell those tales that trigger serendipity, unity and tenacity,
Dear all, heed the call and stand tall for it’s time to revive orality.
This poem was published in the 8th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
Please click here to download.
Read – Long Live the King – Andrea Myinga (Tanzania)
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